A/N: Sorry that it's been so long - show your loving forgiveness with reviews? NSFW.
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"Do you want me to beg for it?"
I giggle, shaking my head.
"Are you sure? You seem like you do."
More giggles. She runs her hands up and down my thighs.
"Emma, darling, please will you get up here and ride my face?"
It's so dirty, so vulgar, so bizarrely erotic, that I partly get on with it just to shut her up.
She tucks her arms behind my knees, stroking up my ass and lower back with her now-freed hands. I look down at her and her smile's so wide. She wants this, she's not just humouring me, and I get this rush of power as I lower myself onto her grinning mouth. She wastes no time in sweeping her tongue along the length of my folds, collecting the juices there and humming with pleasure at the taste.
I jerk my hips; she steadies me with her hands as she explores me with her lips and tongue. She's slow, careful, circling my clit but not quite touching it, and then brushing it with only the lightest of pressure. I grip the headboard, bowing my head to look down at her. Her eyes meet mine and the twinkle in them makes me gasp.
"Fuck!" I try to be quiet, Henry's sleeping nearby, but there's only so much control I can exercise.
Looking down my body, sweaty and alive with lust, to see her face, there, is almost enough to drive me over the edge, but she keeps me hovering, alternating sucks and licks and even the occasional graze of her teeth. I don't know how long she builds it, it could be anything between a millisecond and eternity, far too much but never quite enough, the most delicious kind of torture imaginable.
Her tongue slides inside me; I whimper at the intensified sensation. Her fingers are still massaging my lower back and ass, but she brings a hand around underneath me and her tongue is replaced by three strong fingers curling in just the right way. I move against her, desperate for more friction, and finally she focuses her tongue on my swollen bundle of nerves.
She's still light with her tongue, coiling me even tighter, and I can feel warm, sticky liquid on my thighs, on her cheeks. She makes a sound, a hypnotically happy one, and I echo it with a moan and then she's sucking on my clit with all the force I've been aching for and I climax above her, shoving a fist into my mouth to muffle an involuntary scream.
I roll of her so I don't smother her with my dead weight, then flop against the headboard and take a long, deep breath. I glance over her; she hasn't moved. She's lazily licking her slick fingers while her other hand creeps between her own legs. I chuckle, still high on power, and reach over to swat her hand away, replacing it with my own.
My body's like jelly but it turns out lying on top of her has its benefits. I can feel her whole body pressed against mine; I kiss her deeply, tasting myself on her lips, and she's mine. It's a strange feeling, one I don't even attempt to voice, but as I kiss her, I feel as if there's a kind of responsibility to it. She loves me. She'd give me anything. She just surrendered herself to me, completely. She trusts me. I realise in that moment that having a family isn't just about me feeling safe and accepted - it's about me making my family feel that way.
She comes with only a few touches and we settle into more relaxed kisses. I snuggle into her arms, breathing in the mingled scents of sex and sweat and freshly laundered sheets (which her bed always smells like, even when you eat burgers in it). Her hair smells too, like spicy fruit, and her fingers are soft and kind and loving. She trails them through my hair and I purr contentedly. Well, almost contentedly. I have something I need to say.
"Regina?"
She holds me closer.
"Yes?" she murmurs. She sounds sleepy. We should probably shower, but I don't particularly want to be the one to suggest we leave the bed.
"I love you."
It falls out of my mouth so easily, the words float off my tongue as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it is.
She presses a kiss to my lips, her eyes wet and shiny with tears.
"Good," she says firmly.
I close my eyes.
"I can't decide if I want to stop time or see the future," I tell her.
"Maybe just live in the present," she suggests.
"We need to shower."
"Practical. I like it."
I open my eyes suddenly, another request almost escaping before I clamp my mouth shut over it. She waits, quirking her eyebrow.
"I, uh, would you wash and braid my hair?" I whisper.
"It would be my pleasure," she says, rolling off the bed with a groan. She rolls her shoulders and stretches her legs. I bounce down beside her. She rolls her eyes at me.
"Stop showing off."
I pull her up, into a hug, then, just because I can, I pick her up and carry her, bridal style, into the bathroom.
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"EMMA! YOU'RE STILL HERE!"
I'm suddenly incredibly glad Regina insisted on pyjamas before we fell asleep. I was still in her arms, but now Henry's wedged himself between us, demanding cuddles. Little pussy blocker. I stroke his bald, alien head; he giggles.
"Tickles," he tells me. "I wish I had hair like yours."
I sit up, examining my long blonde braid. "It takes a lot of brushing though."
"Boring," Henry sing-songs.
Regina mumbles something unintelligible and I hoist Henry out of bed. He's feather light; I carry him easily. His lack of hair makes him look younger too; it's hard to remember that he's five.
"Let's go make breakfast, let your Momma sleep in a bit, huh?"
"Momma doesn't sleep in," he tells me as if I'm stupid.
"Well, yeah, usually it's just her to hang out with you. But I'm here this morning so she has an unusual opportunity."
"I guess," he says, sounding a little dubious. "Hey, are these Momma's pyjamas?"
I chuckle. "They sure are."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you wearing them?"
"I borrowed them."
"Because you and Momma had a sleepover?"
"That's right."
"Are you gonna have more sleepovers?"
I set him on the counter and peer into the fridge for inspiration.
"I hope so," I tell him. He pouts.
"I think you should have sleepovers with me."
I pull out a box of strawberries, some yoghurt, and strawberry jelly.
"Maybe that can be arranged. If you're super nice to me."
"What are you making?" he demands.
I find granola, and after a bit of hunting, dessert glasses, the kind you'd make ice cream sundaes in. Then I wash and chop the strawberries.
"Breakfast."
He narrows his eyes at the ingredients.
"That's not pancakes."
I laugh. "Nope. It's... strawberry surprise."
I hand him a spoon and the yoghurt. "Stir that up, then put a spoonful in each glass."
We build up the layers, which Henry finds amusing, even though he declares he hasn't decided if he's going to eat anything. I put on some coffee and fiddle with the radio, and Henry dips his finger in the jelly when he thinks I can't see.
Regina appears just as the coffee is finished, wrapped up in her robe and looking adorably sleepy. I hand her a mug of coffee; she smiles gratefully and rubs noses with Henry, who informs her, loudly, that,
"Emma made really weird breakfast."
Regina examines the dessert glass concoctions and I suddenly worry that they're really tacky, but then she smiles again and passes out spoons and digs into hers, making all the right noises.
"This is almost healthy," she says, laughing as Henry practically buries himself in yoghurt and strawberries. He's still sitting on the counter.
Regina opens the cupboard and extracts a large pill tray. Henry rolls his eyes, but swallows the pills with the water she gives him.
"Does anything hurt?" she asks. He shakes his head. She narrows her eyes.
"Even your chest?"
He shakes his head more vehemently. "I'm fine," he insists. "I can play with Emma all day."
Regina sighs, then puts the pills away. "Okay, but you have to promise to tell me if anything gets sore. It doesn't necessarily mean we'll go to the hospital, I just need to know. I know you want to stay home, but you want to stay well too, right?"
He nods.
"Good boy."
She finishes her food, pours herself more coffee, and snakes an arm around my waist.
"I like having you here," she says.
"You could show me how to do the meds, then you can have a proper lie in sometime," I say, guessing that she only got up when she did because she had to give Henry his pills.
"That's very kind of you. So you're planning on staying over a lot?"
"Apparently I owe Henry a sleepover, too."
Regina chuckles. "Are you jealous of me, Henry?"
"No," he lies. I wonder when I became so precious to them - that's how I feel. Precious. Important.
"You'll get your sleepover, kid," I promise, lifting him down to the floor. "What about today? What do you want to do?"
"Movie day?" he asks, smiling sweetly at his mother. He even bats his eyelashes.
"Okay, you get Emma to help you set everything up while I clean up in here," she suggests.
It's so domestic, looking after the kid, keeping the house tidy, and then snuggling on the couch with Henry's favourite movies. I'm not particularly wowed by his choices, but he relents and allows me to get out my laptop and work on my essay (which I refuse to let Regina see).
"Before you go crazy," she tells me, "I've contacted another faculty member, and they're going to mark it, rather than me. Kathryn's great, she's a fair and accessible marker, and she grades like I do, but I just thought that would be simpler."
I nod. It's a good solution, and it actually makes me more certain of my topic choice. If Regina were to mark it, I'm not sure that she'd be able to be neutral about the subject matter.
Sometime in the afternoon, Henry tugs me away from my essay and over to his toy closet, which is beautifully organised and has Regina all over it. I like noticing their similarities, their common interests, the way Henry's nose wrinkles up when you say something he doesn't like, just like hers does. He selects the train set and the castle set - Regina protests initially, but he reminds her that they go together, and we spend hours turning their living room into an exotic civilisation with everything from dragons to Thomas the Train.
It's fascinating to watch Regina play. It's strange that it's this that makes me feel as if I truly know her. I've watched her come and done, repeatedly, I've seen her at her most vulnerable, I've seen her in her element (teaching) and I've even seen her with the kid before, but there's something about watching her put on a silly voice and chase a steam train with a dragon that opens up her soul.
Henry tires out but he's already programmed to help clear his toys away, and then we go to the kitchen to prepare a meal. I'm not even in awe of the domesticity any more. I'm so included, it's almost impossible to be surprised. I make sense, here. We eat (a kind of vegetable pasta bake I sort of want to marry) and Regina takes Henry upstairs to give him a bath and put him to bed while I do the dishes. He's whacked, and I'm not even done when she comes back down. She wraps her arms around my waist (warning me out loud first) and I lean into her embrace and close my eyes and listen to time's relentless movement.
"Hello," she says.
I kiss her almost languidly, as if we have time, as if we have forever. Perhaps it's because I know we should, but I don't really think it through that much. She pulls my wet hands out of the washing up bowl and they settle on her waist, soapy water soaking through her shirt. She has air conditioning but it's turned down for the night and the kitchen is sticky and warm.
I can hear the Russian waltz, the same one we danced to in the rain, pushing and pulling me in a slow, extravagant dance. Regina drags my shirt off almost lazily, tugging her fingers through my hair and kissing me with the certainty that I'm not going anywhere. I feel her strength more acutely with each day I know her - today I know her as a mother, that fascinating breed of superwoman that's impossibly common, yet for me, until now, impossible to find. It's not that she's my mother, it's just that she is one, she cares for me, and she proves that somehow, there's good in the world, even for me.
"I love you too."
She doesn't say it until she's three fingers and knuckle deep inside my mostly-naked body, and if you go by her self-satisfied smirk as I scream out her name, the wait was entirely intentional.
"Good," I shudder as I prop myself up on the counter. She hands me the glass of water she's been sipping, then allows me to escort her upstairs.
I dream that I'm sitting on a clifftop watching the sun shine over a turquoise sea. My legs are dangling over the side and there are hands on my shoulders, holding me, loving me, but I never turn around. When I wake up, I've moved out of Regina's arms, but I'm still in her bed and no one has a black eye, so it's definitely progress. I check the time. I'm going to have to go, I have work and I have to shower…
I use hers. I know she won't mind. She stirs when I get up, and again when I come in. I kiss her forehead.
"I'll call you later," I breathe.
She has to take Henry to see his doctor today, I remember. I feel guilty that I'm not going with them. I can't decide if the feeling is ultimately good or bad. MM isn't home. She'll be gone for the summer soon. I wish I could leave, too. I've never been that bothered before, but then, I've never had somewhere I'd rather be before, either.
I finish my shift, text Regina to let me know when they're finished at the hospital, then sit down to work on my essay. I actually want to go to the hospital too, but I decide to leave it for tomorrow. I don't want to tie everything up with Henry. He might be my inspiration, but I know the paper can't actually be about him. I call some charities instead, and they all seem enthusiastic. I'm surprised by their overwhelmingly positive reception to a simple college essay, but they tell me it's not all that common for people, especially young people, to call them with serious questions.
Regina still hasn't called when I'm done, so I head to the library, even braving the infamous medicine wing. It's busier than the other parts (which are almost deserted since almost everyone's finished for the summer) but in a way that's helpful - I find a friendly looking guy who seems thrilled to help me find a relevant book. We get hold of a couple, and a few journals too, although I can't check them out. He offers to show me how to access them online but I politely decline. I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket and I've been flagging for a while. I check out the books I can take and look at my phone. It's only M, though.
Coffee with her doesn't sound too bad, even if it is in the cafeteria, so I meet her (and Belle and Ruby, it turns out) and drink the university's special brand of battery acid while we quiz each other about our love lives. M, of course (though she preserves the identity of my interest, thank God) and to my delight, neither Ruby nor Belle share her qualms. Ruby is all for it, giving me a conspiratorial wink regarding the sexual prowess of older lovers, and Belle just wants me to be happy. I go away from the meeting reconsidering her in general. I've always liked her, but she's so smart, so quiet, we've never become close. I make a note to call her and go out sometime. I wonder if Regina's to blame for this, too.
Regina calls me just as I'm walking back to the dorm.
"I'm so sorry!" she begins. "Henry's fine, really good, in fact. Arizona seemed amazed. He was ecstatic when she said he could come back home, so of course we had to go to the beach and there was no phone reception. We're going for dinner now, burgers. His choice of course, he's so like you in some ways, and anyway I mentioned your name and now he formally requests your presence. I'm sure you have better things to do-"
"I don't!" I exclaim.
She laughs. I laugh with her.
"And you don't need to be sorry. I was actually super productive."
"I'm kind of sad I won't be marking it."
"You can still read it. But only after I know the grade, and only if the grade is an A."
She laughs again. "Can I come pick you up? We're only five minutes away."
I go to get changed and pack an overnight bag without really thinking about it. M kindly agrees to throw my laundry in with hers (she is a good friend) and I meet my family - my family - downstairs.
"You should live with us."
Henry drops this bomb on me as soon as I'm seated in the car. It's not a new bomb, but it's probably more explosive than the first time, because this time, I know that I want to.
"I wish I could, kid," I say honestly, hoping it's jokey enough for Regina to take it either way. I think people often interpret things in the way that they want to, and I don't think this is a bad thing at all. It's far better if people are honest and open about their own desires, rather than trying to guess and read the desires of others. It's not that they shouldn't do things for other people, it's just complicated enough to know what I want… This is probably a terribly selfish thing to think, and I'm at the point of changing my mind when Regina's hand folds over mine.
"Really?" she whispers.
I shrug. "I mean, yeah," I say. "It's not like it's possible, but yeah, in a dream world, of course I'd live with you and Henry."
I can see her thinking, but she doesn't comment any further, just drives to Henry's favourite diner and switches the conversation to something less fantastical.
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A/N: I know it's been a long time but PLEASE review, let me know you're still here! Thank you so much for your continued support.